


Quite a Different Type of Literature

by QueenThayet



Category: Simon Feximal - K. J. Charles, Whyborne and Griffin - Jordan L. Hawk
Genre: Characters Writing Fanfiction, Fanfic leads to excellent sex, M/M, Whyborne doesn't understand the point, characters writing RPF, so meta it hurts, until he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet
Summary: Whyborne finds the different kind of literature entirely that Griffin is writing. He doesn't really see the point. Until Griffin helps him understand. With sex.





	Quite a Different Type of Literature

**Author's Note:**

> This emerged from a conversation on either KJ Charles FB page or Jordan L. Hawk's when their new books came out last month. Because Griffin was reading the new Simon Feximal book. And there was a discussion of Griffin writing fanfic for Robert/Simon. And... yeah, basically this is what happened. I'm sorry? You're welcome?

_I gasped as I entered the room, not because of the presence of spirits or magic, but because of the wanton scene taking place on the dining table. Robert was pushed over the table, his hands gripped behind his back and his trousers down around his ankles. Simon stood behind him, stripped to the waist, his broad shoulders rippling with exertion. He held the smaller man down with one hand while the other gripped his hip as he thrust fiercely. My own prick took great interest in this blatant display I had stumbled upon. I freed myself from the confines of my too-tight trousers and began to stroke my eager cock in time with Simon’s powerful thrusts_

Whyborne blushed a deep red and dropped the paper he had taken from Griffin’s desk in horror. He hadn’t meant to snoop, but he had spied the name Robert and wondered if Robert Caldwell in England had apprised Griffin to some new danger from the Fideles or the Restoration. But instead of a normal (or an abnormal) missive, it was this... tale of buggery and voyeurism. About their, well, friends was perhaps too strong a term, but their colleagues Simon Feximal and Robert Caldwell. He knew they were lovers of course; Griffin had informed him of that detail that had been left out (for good reason) of the novels that he devoured. But that didn’t mean he needed to read about it! Why would Griffin have such a thing?!

Griffin then walked into his office, fiddling with a cufflink. “Ival, have you seen my green waistcoat? I thought it was—oh!”

“What on earth is this?” Whyborne asked, red and flustered. He had picked up the paper off the ground and shook it at Griffin. 

“Well, it’s not finished,” Griffin prevaricated.

“Griffin!”

“It’s just a bit of fun, Ival.”

“Why are you describing the intimate relations of Simon Feximal and Robert Caldwell?” Whyborne demanded. 

“Do you recall when we met Robert and Simon in England?” Griffin asked delicately. 

“Of course. And that blasted author was far too taken with _you_ , I recall!”

“Calm down, my dear. Robert is most clearly taken, as am I. But he had mentioned that telling the truth of their relationship in their books would be quite a different type of literature.”

“A stretch to call those sensationalist novels ‘literature’ at all,” Whyborne snorted. 

“Anyway,” Griffin said pointedly, “I thought I might try my hand at writing some of that different kind of literature. Just for fun.” 

“And you thought you’d write about _Simon Feximal_?” Whyborne asked, aghast. 

“He was quite an attractive man if you like that sort of thing,” Griffin responded, teasing his husband as he walked toward him, trapping him against the wall. 

“I suppose you like that sort of thing,” Whyborne grumbled. 

“My preferences tend more toward tall, lanky, with messy hair, and full of magic, as you well know,” Griffin said smugly, pressing a kiss to the underside of Whyborne’s jaw. He undid Whyborne’s collar and began dropping kisses against his neck. 

“Weren’t you meant to be getting dressed for dinner?” Whyborne stuttered. 

“Mmm, yes, but we never actually make it to dinner and the theater when we plan to, why break our trend. I’d much rather miss our reservations because I’m making love to my husband than because of some mystical disaster.” 

“You’ve jinxed us now, you realize,” Whyborne said, sounding put out. 

“Hmmm, well then we’d better be quick, because I’m definitely making love to you this evening,” Griffin said distractedly, divesting Whyborne of his clothing. 

“Did writing that... pornography put you in the mood for this?” Whyborne asked, appalled. 

“Of course it did, that’s the entire point of pornography, my dear.” Griffin paused in his ministrations long enough to grin at Whyborne, before dropping to his knees in front of his husband. 

Whyborne’s higher sensibilities might have been offended, but his cock was more than interested in the proceedings. Griffin nuzzled against the protrusion at the front of Whyborne’s trousers before quickly unfastening them and pulling it out. He ceased all teasing and took Whyborne’s cock swiftly into his mouth. Whyborned sputtered and nearly fell over, leaning hard against the wall at his back and digging his fingers into Griffin’s long, curly hair. 

“Ah, I’m starting to see the... appeal,” Whyborne choked out, trembling as Griffin gave his full attention to the cock in his mouth. He licked and sucked and kissed it, delighting in his husband’s taste, the weight in his mouth, the hand in his hair. He slipped a hand down his own trousers and took out his own member, already standing at attention. He stroked himself as he pleasured Ival’s prick thoroughly. He hummed in approval as Whyborne began to thrust into his mouth. 

“Griffin, I’m going to spend,” Whyborne warned, his grip tightening on Griffin’s hair. Griffin sucked harder as he pulled at his own cock, feeling Whyborne’s pleasure spill into his mouth as he achieved his own crisis. 

Griffin swallowed and gently sucked and kissed Whyborne’s softening member until he pulled away. Griffin tucked himself back into his trousers and then stood to kiss Whyborne hard, pushing him back against the wall. 

Whyborne looked stunned, as if he might collapse right there against the wall. 

“Are you all right, my dear?” Griffin checked. 

“Oh, I’m much better than simply “all right” as you well know,” Whyborne huffed, but without any heat. 

“I love you, Ival.”

“I love you too, Griffin. I suppose I can’t fault your literary ambitions if it leads to such delightful diversions.” 

“Perhaps I’ll write about us next time,” Griffin smirked. 

“Absolutely not!” Whyborne said, horror-struck. Griffin grinned playfully and shrugged. 

“I think we can still make our dinner reservations if we hurry. Do hurry up, Ival.”


End file.
